Special Education- Tale 3

Special Education

By Reid M. Haynes

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Dr. Slump is the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies, as well as all characters within. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them.

Legend:
( ) Denotes thoughts.
{ } Denotes sound effects.

Tale 3: Lemmings Can Learn

*****

         "Train me!"

         "No." Kame-Sen'nin closed the lid on the garbage pail, covering up the refuse-laden Arale.

*****

         "Train me!"

         "No!" Kame-Sen'nin flushed the 4-liter public commode, sucking Arale down the drain.

*****

         "Train me!"

         "NO!" Kame-Sen'nin kicked the birthday package down the hill, causing Arale to squeal in protest.

*****

         The water of the hot spring boiled with enough heat to scald all but the most conditioned body. Steam rose into the cool night air and became illuminated with the tranquil beams of starlight. A dozen palm trees hung in position around the spring, their lofty leaves providing seclusion from the world's worries and concerns. The old man soaking within the spring sighed, his exhaustion disappearing into the billowing mist, bliss within bliss.

         Kame-Sen'nin had dug out the spring late last evening, powering it with a few simple Chi transferal techniques he had picked up in his youthful travels. It was far enough from Kame House to not remind him of its destruction; the old man's wrinkly physique would ensure he would have get no surprise visitors, either. He bat the water about with a flip of his hand, sending it splashing away in short waves. Watching the gentle ripples spreading out in their kaleidoscope patterns somehow soothed him, allowing him to think more clearly about recent events.

         (What a wash out.) The tired martial artist reflected upon his ex-student with a frown, feeling more disappointed than angry. He had prepared a whole slew of unorthodox, Karate Kid-style exercises for Arale, to forge the girl's mind subconsciously rather than consciously. But somehow, everything was a game to her, without rules or regulations or time-outs. It was impossible to get her to settle down enough to teach her anything.

         (Maybe she's just can't learn in the traditional Turtle School way,) he wondered, reaching over to the fondue pot he had set up at the side of the spring. (I wonder who might be able to embed a sophisticated martial art into that head case...)

         "Train me!" a burning Arale head requested from inside the pot, her split ends sizzling with an oil fire.

         Kame-Sen'nin sighed, fitting the lid back over the pot to hide the head from view. (Some other guy's problem now,) he decided, folding his arms back behind his head. (Now finding the "Can Can Bunny" box set again at a good price: that's a problem!)

*****

         "Golly, Arale-chan's stronger than I thought," Goku commented, picking up a mangled piece of a chair that might as well have been driftwood. "It's still smoking!"

         "No duh." Kuririn kept his attention on the torn up television, poking at it with a stick as if it would somehow start showing Mobile Suit Gundam again. "It's a radioactive zone around here. Your girlfriend's a spark plug. Since she's a robot, that one's literal."

         The other members of the Kame family were out among the ruins of Kame House, digging around for anything salvageable, and having virtually no luck. Sleep had not come easily to them last night; their current activities were more due to insomnia than anything else. Lunch was desperately trying to keep from choking on the fumes as she rummaged though some warped silverware, causing Kuririn to keep his distance in case of a sneeze. Goku was too distracted to care, his mind bouncing around the events leading to yesterday's calamity with all the randomness of a pachinko ball.

         "Say, where'd she go, anyway?" Goku asked of the group, looking around for the missing robot. "Doesn't she wanna see how badly she blew the house up?"

         "She took off with Sea Turtle just a little while ago," Lunch answered him, looking back behind the curls of her hair. "Something about buying a cello."

         "Better go find her," he said, taking off towards the shoreline.

         "Go to it, lover boy," Kuririn's droned, waving at him lazily.

         Goku skittered around the island perimeter like a beetle, his heels kicking up a modest dust storm behind him. He scanned the scrolling landscape for any sign of his girlfriend, the palm trees moving quickly around him as to resemble an automobile ride. It wasn't normally easy to miss someone like Arale, but the girl was being surprisingly inconspicuous this morning. Maybe she wasn't feeling any better than the rest of them.

         The monkey boy's keen, animal sense of hearing picked up a distinct screeching from the eastern shore. He stopped for a brief moment and turned towards the sound, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. Spying a pair of familiar figures silhouetted in the dawn's early light, he dashed on over to the surf for a brief meeting with his friends. As he drew closer to his destination, he slowed to a jog, trying to keep his breath even as a sort of impromptu training exercise.

         On the beach, Arale and Sea Turtle shone in the red/orange rays of the sun as if they were part of a painting. Sea Turtle was playing sad, cello music with an expert hand, his eyes shut and his expression placid. Arale stared at the twinkling ocean, her pupils reflecting a thousand lost hopes and dreams. Mindlessly, she fiddled with her poo stick, showing no hint of the simple joy that animal droppings usually brought.

         Goku approached the duo. "Hey, Arale-chan, where'ya been?" he asked with his usual impeccable timeliness. "You weren't here when we woke up."

         "Truly, it has been a rough night for Lady Arale." Sea Turtle slowly eased the bow over the strings in a particularly melancholy measure. "I've gone through all of Beethoven's favorites, and some of Mozart's early works."

         Goku sat down beside Arale; she didn't acknowledge his presence. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, thrown off by the disquiet in her normally jovial spirit.

         The girl smiled into empty space. "I guess I got fired, huh," she stated, kicking out at the waves lapping her toes.

         "Well, you did kinda destroy our house," he mentioned. "The old timer was really mad, you know."

         "Am I gonna hafta go home, Go-kun?" she asked him. "I was havin' fun before yesterday."

         "Nah, you're my girlfriend." He shook his head, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "We gotta stick together, right?"

         She gave him a real smile this time, shaking her head "yes."

         The two sat comfortably together, their hair wafting with a light breeze. "Hey, Go-kun, why d'ya train so hard?" she wondered, turning to him with a flip of her hair. "Isn't it more fun to just play all the time?"

         "Are you kiddin'?" Goku looked at her as if she was crazy. "Gettin' tough's the best thing there is! Also, my Grandpa always wanted me to be a great martial artist. I gotta get real strong so he'll be proud."

         Goku's gaze grew distant, and he sifted through his memories as if panning for gold. "When I'm strong, I feel like I'm ready for anything," he said, a bright smile illuminating the dawn. "That means I can have all sorts of fun, without worryin' about bad stuff happenin' to me. I hafta work hard sometimes, but it's worth it to have more adventures. I'm making the most of every minute, 'specially since you're here with me."

         Arale seemed to bat this around for a moment. "That's what I want, too!" she finally cheered. "I want to get real strong, so I can play at your level!"

         Goku grinned, nodding in agreement. Then he got up from the sands, turning to face her. "C'mon, I'm gonna train ya," he told her, offering his hand. "Since the old timer won't, I mean."

         "Hoyo?" Arale's eyes widened, but she took his hand despite her confusion. "Where're we going, Go-kun?"

         "I'm gonna show you what Grandpa showed me," he replied, leading her away from the beach. "We'll do it Mount Paozu style!"

*****

         The sun had arrived at the 9 o'clock position, with the promise of new life shining in its tangerine glow. Goku, Arale, Kuririn, Lunch, and Sea Turtle were gathered in a grassy clearing on the far side of the island, giving them a little distance from the old master, who was still licking his wounds. Goku stood before Arale, splendid in his orange gi, and ready to lay down the law of martial arts. Arale, dressed in the blue gi her Sensei Midori had made for her, portrayed wide-eyed reception for the boy's next instructions.

         "Arale-chan, every attack has a natural counter, and every defense a natural weakness," Goku told her, recalling early lessons by the late Son Gohan. "By attacking, you open yourself up to other attacks. And if you block wrong, the bad guys can getcha that way, too. Try to hit me with a punch, and I'll show ya."

         "'Kay." Arale shrugged, rushing up and going for a short face jab. {SFFT!}

         Goku's eyes twitched for a brief second, and then he quickly moved to intercept the blow. "Jan-Ken Paper!" he cried, palming Arale's fist and rendering her attack impotent. While she was still immobile, he sent a hard right straight for the girl's jaw. "Rock!" Goku's fist made contact, crashing into her jaw and sending her flat on her back among the grass blades.

         "Paper covers rock, rock crushes scissors, scissors cuts paper," he explained to the prone Arale-chan. "Jan-ken Punch is the basis of all martial arts. You gotta pick the right attack at the right time, or else they're gonna win!"

         "And it's good for fighting games, too," Kuririn commented as an aside, chewing on a muffin Lunch had picked up at a neighborhood grocery.

         "Neato!" Arale propped herself up on her elbows, grinning up at him. "It's just like playing with Suppaman!"

         "Now it's your turn." Goku put his hands on his hips. "Show me whatcha got!"

         Arale ran at Goku, doing her best to mimic what she had seen. Her hand formed a scissors-type attack as she thrust at his eyes. Goku only smiled, and prepared to counter with a rock-type attack. The game began once more.

*****

         "Now it's time for weapon training!" Goku continued with the next part of his program, making a tapping motion with his finger. "A good fighter's gotta know how to use the stuff he's got. You can use sharp things, hard things, even soft things against your opponent. Anything you can find, you can use to really mess 'em up!"

         The high noon sun sparkled on the rose-hued Nyoibo staff as Goku drew it from its sheath. With his other hand, he tossed Arale a length of bamboo, who received it with a blank expression on her face. As Arale fiddled with the implement, Goku magically stretched his staff so that it resembled a bo, and walked within Arale's outer ring of defense. He took a stance.

         "Ready?" he challenged, waving the tip of Nyoibo in a brazen come-on.

         "Yup!" Arale answered, pumping her staff like a lever.

         Goku turned to Kuririn, and gave him a wink. The young monk nodded, and pulled his stopwatch up to bear. "...Alright, go!" he shouted, as the seconds began to count up.

         Arale ran forward and swung her bamboo staff in a wide arc aimed at Goku's head. {KLACK!} Goku raised Nyoibo into the weapon's path, and span the weapon in a deceptive pattern that ended in a jab at the girl's midsection. {FOON! FOON! FOON!} Arale barely managed to tuck away from the attack, scrambling to execute a few more swings and force Goku back onto his guard. {KLOK! KLOK! KLOK!} She managed this with a measure of success, although Goku's parries were carefully carried out without sweat.

         [KLACK KLOK KLACK!} The stick fighters clashed again and again, their weapons a crisscrossing pair of solid snakes toppling over each other for dominance. Arale's eyes jerked back and forth as she struggled to keep track of the Nyoibo's red shine. Goku, for his part, maneuvered his weapon in twisting patterns impossible for all but a master of bojutsu. Still, both of the combatants were going strong, with Arale doing a good turn at keeping up with the monkey boy.

         "HOIII!" Arale roared as means of a battle cry, swinging at an opening created by the lengthy follow-through of Goku's last strike. That was just a feint, however, as the boy was using his momentum to swing into a kick that caught Arale in the gut. {BOOSH!} As Arale crumpled from the hard blow, he slammed her on the head with his Nyoibo. {BWONK!} Then, he soundly whacked her two more times, ensuring Arale had a dirtnap date before he called it quits.

         "...time!" Kuririn called out, clicking the stopwatch. "Man, you got creamed that round, Arale!"

         "Cheez, Arale-chan!" Goku complained, standing above her like a religious deacon. "Doncha know I can hitcha other ways, too?"

         "You suck, Son Go-kun." Arale coughed, spitting out a mouthful of soil.

         Arale slowly got back to her feet, brushing off her gi. She shot a challenging look at her boyfriend, her body pumping with the robotic substitute for adrenaline. The boy was smirking, his eyebrows cocked low, his pupils twinkling with mirth. "What're you waitin' for?" he taunted. "Come 'n get me!"

         A devil-may-care smile was slung on Arale's face, and she hastened towards Goku, with a hard bamboo staff for his arrogance. Kuririn sighed, and clicked the stopwatch to begin the next round.

         And in the bushes, just out of sight, an old master watched behind dark sunglasses. "Hmm, a more direct curriculum, instead of subliminal training," Kame-Sen'nin purred, gathering his beard into his fingers. "Interesting..."

*****

         Arale twisted open the top of her bottle, observing her Robobitan A energy drink. She dumped the rest of its contents into her mouth, about half a cup's worth, taking it down in one gulp. Tossing the bottle into the grass, she wiped her brow, heaving a bit with efforts exerted. As the sun rolled its way to the horizon, she faced Goku and Kuririn again, who stood side by side like centurions.

         "Multi-man combat, Arale-chan!" Goku beamed at the girl, as if he were discussing a new thrill ride at the West City amusement park. "Me and Kuririn are gonna jump ya, so see if you can fight us off." He motioned to his partner, then continued. "Only tournaments have man-to-man combat. Every thing else is a big ol' brawl."

         "We've trained together for seven months, so we're really in synch," Kuririn added, adjusting his wrist guards. "It's gonna be tough for you, Arale!"

         "That's okay!" Arale smiled. "Your bald head's round, so it'll fly far when I kick it!"

         "Whoo..." Kuririn breathed, scandalized by the remark. "Still spicy."

         Goku and Kuririn locked eyes for a moment, then nodded at each other. Then, they blitzed Arale, their fists prepped for destruction. "HAAAII!!!" the two yelled in unison, honing on the girl like a hornet swarm. Arale locked her jaw and got into a fighting stance, ready to receive the fire of Olympus.

         Kuririn came first, throwing himself into a body blow. {FWOK!} Arale brought her knee up to ward off the attack, and launched a round of front kicks that forced him back just as Goku moved in from the rear. Arale span about to deflect Goku's kick, as her other hand tended to the threat presented by Kuririn's continuous punch attack. Soon, the girl was being assaulted on all sides, the boys spiraled around her, ready to exploit any opening.

         {BWAK BWAK BWAK!} Arale's hands moved like pistons in order to knock away the attacks of her aggressors. No quarter was given; the Kame school graduates kept on her with the same fervor shown to their Tenkai'chi Budokai competitors. And yet, the android had a good sense about the flow of combat. Never once did she lose track of Goku or Kuririn, when one was advancing or retreating, when they attacked as a pair, or moved independently.

         {SHWAAA!} Arale rose up in a wide somersault kick, and Kuririn stumbled back, momentarily losing his balance. The girl then converted her energies into a dive-bombing strike that took the young monk down, bringing his head hard against the turf. {DMMM!} Not missing a beat, she whirled back to Goku, who was approaching in a zigzagging pattern in order to confuse her. With Kuririn out of the fight for the moment, it was now a one-on-one match between Arale and Goku, their hands batting against each other in a dangerous tango.

         {SHAKK SHAKK SHAKK!} Arale's fingers burned with friction as she deflected her opponent's strikes, picking them off like they were annoying insects. Goku, too, was on fire, doing his darndest to keep her from scoring a hit, with the odd kick or two skimming dangerously close to his person. They grappled for a bit, keeping their hands tight on the other's forearms as they battled for supremacy. Then, they broke apart so that a meter of space was separating them, ending the scuffle momentarily.

         Arale and Goku poured a molten lava gaze between the two of them, the tension bubbling through the air. Kurinin had gotten upright again, grabbing his stomach. Goku continuing to stare the girl down, as if passing judgment. Then, he gave her an "ok" sign with his finger and thumb, winking. "That's good!"

         Arale's million-dollar smile could have broken the bank. She jumped into the air, threw up a fist, and shrieked in celebration. Yeah!"

*****

         The day's training was done, and yet the three junior fighters had only just gotten started. Many times the sun rose and set over the island as Arale sparred with Goku and Kuririn, the two going through every aspect of their early training with her. As Rocky-esque music played in the background, she cheerfully worked her servos off morning till night, with Goku's enthusiastic attitude spurring her on. Her electronic brain created new connections, her mind broadening and expanding like every martial artist before her.

*****

         On a brisk summer night a few weeks later, Arale was sprawled on the grass catching up on some much needed robotic R.E.M., her arms splayed out in an undignified pose. Goku and Kuririn were beside her in similar posture, drowning in their exhaustion. Still, the group was resting happily together with the long day behind them. They were unaware of the shadow that stalked the darkness, easing up on them like a black panther.

         Arale's face scrunched up as she felt a soft bundle land on the ground beside her. Wobbling to a sitting position, she took off her glasses and wiped the corners of her eyes free of the grime that had accumulated there. The android gal turned lazily to the disturbance, just missing the dark stranger at it shifted into the thicket. She didn't, however, miss the pile of clothes laid out for her beside her empty bottle of Robobitan A, practically gleaning within her irises.

         It was an orange martial arts gi, glowing as if it were fresh off the needle. Exactly the same as the ones Goku and Kuririn wore, it came complete with a blue cloth belt and a pair of kung fu shoes. The Kame symbol was stitched on the left side of the vest, as well as on the back. The uniform was sewn with competent hands, and was just the right size for Arale to wear.

         Arale stared wide-eyed at the strange gift, wondering what mysterious benefactor could have provided this for her. Then, she spied a note laid on top of the folded clothes. She picked it up, reading it outloud. "Arale, come to the thicket at midnight," she recited to herself. "'Kay."

         A brief moment later, she had changed into the gi, putting up her hair in twin, floppy ponytails. Without Goku or Kuririn, she had proceeded to the rendezvous point, a shady thicket deep within the jungles of the big island. The nightlife was abound with the rumbling of predators; hungry tigers just waiting for a bite of easy meat. She paid them no mind; tigers usually ended up as good pets if you played with them a little.

         Arale waited impatiently in the middle of the scenic splendor, her eyes dawdling about the brambles and shrubs. The overhanging branches blocked out the starlight, cloaking everything in a lonely murkiness. The berry bushes and flowers offset the darkness, giving it a picturesque Alice in Wonderland feel, and keeping it from dampening the mood. Boredom tended to set in when she was around glum surroundings.

         A shuffling sound emanated from Arale's right, and she turned around. A pair of bony hands were parting the tall grass, a figure stepping into the girl's sight with a subverted strength about it. It was a bearded old codger wearing a Chinese kung fu suit, with a tall order of hair crowning his head, and an easygoing expression in his droopy eyes. He came into full view with a practiced manner about him, as if his every step were part of a perfectly choreographed routine.

         "Ah, what a wonderful night to be alive," he sighed, looking about the thicket like every berry on the bushes was a wonder. "Cool and refreshing, like a light rain shower, or at least a can of soda pop. A perfect night...for a challenge." He stared straight through Arale, as if reading the intentions in her silicon soul.

         "Are you the guy who wrote that note?" she inquired. "You're kind of a old geezer."

         Shadows crept across the man's features like a high tide, his eyes diamonds in the rough. "My dear child, I am Jackie Chun." He introduced himself with an eloquent bow. "Master of the martial arts. I appear anywhere there's a promising young fighter on the road to the top. And you, young Arale, are it."

         Arale leaned in for a closer look. "Oh, it's Kame-Sen'nin!" she realized, brightening up. "N'cha!"

         The old man sweated at this accusation. "I'm quite sure you're mistaken," he stammered, running a hand through his thick hair. "People often say I resemble the Invincible Old Master, though in the end, I am only Jackie Chun."

         "But you just took off your glasses and added a wig!" she insisted, pointing out at him. "That's pretty dumb for a disguise."

         "Ah well, that is..." Jackie's distinguished demeanor vanished in a frustrated fit. "Look, just go along with this, will ya?" he snapped, a vein popping up on his temple. "It's 200 zeni for the super-glue I have pasted on my skull, so I'm gonna get the most out of my Mysterious Stranger schtick!"

         "Okay." Arale shrugged, her demeanor unaffected by his outburst. "But if I beat you, that means that I'm a good martial artist, right?"

         "That would be the short version." He nodded, huffing a bit into the crisp air. "But I hardly expect you to get that far when battling me. Think of this as another crash course in the sweet science of fisticuffs. I just want to see how you fare in the grand scheme of things. Nothing more."

         "So what are we still talking for?" Arale curled up into a fighting stance, the hard smile on her face resembling Son Goku's. "Let's play!"

         Jackie's lips twitched up behind his beard. "Enthusiasm," he commented, shifting into a similar stance. "Always liked that in the youth."

         The two fighters looked down the expanse of grass divided them like it was a fissure in the land. Arale's hair flared behind her a curious nighttime gale, alive in a violet flurry of tied-up fire. Jackie Chun stood motionless, calmly sizing her up and offering no openings. A cloud of flower petals tossed about on the breeze between them, a serene distraction from the upcoming melee.

         Then, Arale tore down the distance between her and Jackie, the flowers rippling around her. Her teeth were set in a death grin as she prepared a titanic punch for his immediate displeasure.

         He smiled, coolly deflecting the blow. The game was afoot.

*****

         The summit of Fry-Pan Mountain was crowned with a halo of stormy, black, circling clouds that spat out forks of lightning indiscriminately. Crows and jays cut through under the haze as a escort to any damned soul that dared enter this devil's dwelling. The once blazing volcanic mound was now cold as a tomb, supporting no more life than the most desolate desert tundra. It was fitting surroundings for the new dark lord and anyone unfortunate as to incur his wrath.

         In the vacant hollows of the castle ruins, perched on the cow bone throne once occupied by Gyu-Mao, was Yamcha, dressed like a cross between Lucifer and Aoshi Shinomori. "Look, my loyal minion, at the darkness I've unleashed upon the land!" he declared, stroking the black tomb cradled in his hands. "The dark book tells all, the past, the future, my new destiny as ruler of this land."

         "Sir, this is getting as bad as those Bulma/Vegeta fanfics." Pu'ar tried to reason with him, even as he was dressed up as a Dragon Quest Drakee. "It's tough calling you 'Lord Yamcha' when you're taking it so literally."

         "Silence Pu'ar!" Yamcha boomed, his voice taking on a bass rumble. "I'm the arrogant, brooding prince now! Just watch me practice my cold, unfeeling gaze!" He shot a slitty stare into the distance, sure to melt the heart of any starry-eyed teenage girl.

         The long suffering servant bemoaned his fate. "Isn't there already a dozen parodies about this sort of thing?" he wondered to himself quietly.

         This off-hand comment passed by Yamcha. "Now that I've achieved ultimate mastery of the dark arts, it's time to seek out my queen." With a grand sweep of his arm, Yamcha motioned to the horizon. "I think a trip to West City is in order!"

         The cat took a moment to consider this. "...You know, I was going to argue with you," he admitted. "But no, I think she would probably go for something like this."

         "You know she would!" he agreed, snapping his finger in a decidedly un-Byronic gesture. "And nobody's going to get in my way this time!"

         "Wrong!" a piercing cry broke through the darkness. The nerves in Yamcha's face tightened, and he looked to either side before finally focusing ahead of him, finding the source of the disturbance approaching from outside.

         A pair of cloaked figures emerged from the castle entrance, running at a steady gait. They approached the throne with no reverence for the majesty of the faux dark lord. The hoods cloaked their faces in darkness, but none the less revealed the faces of Chi-Chi and Obotchaman, their white eyes shining with anger. Together, they looked like two little devils themselves.

         Yamcha was nonplussed. "The brat pack again?" he groaned, grimacing at the duo. "What did I do to deserve this?"

         Obotchaman was about to speak up, but Chi-Chi beat him to the punch, ready to tell Yamcha exactly what he did to deserve this. "Yamcha, you lyin', stinkin', piece of cow poo!" she hollered, pushing her friend to the side and nearly bowling him over. "You led me around like a horse at a rodeo! You bamboozled me like a senile old grandma! You scammed me like a junk mail sweepstakes!"

         "Mister Yamcha, cease these actions and return this land and its treasures to Miss Chi-Chi," Obotchaman ordered in a brisk tone. "They are not yours, and you have no right to them."

         "Right?" Yamcha almost guffawed. "Right?! What does 'right' mean to someone who's been passed up for some scowling piece of fluff over and over again? The only 'right' is to take what you want by force, and now that scowling piece of fluff is me!"

         "Yes, with this book, I have all the answers," he declared, holding up his prize. "The most precious item in Gyu-Mao's collection, from the legendary enchantress herself!"

         Obotchaman straightened his spectacles, making sure he was seeing properly. "An autographed copy of Twilight?" he asked, in awe at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

         "I got it from a mall signing." Chi-Chi sighed, not without a touch of embarrassment.

         "Only Stephanie Meyer's magnum opus can teach a man how to be suave!" Yamcha asserted, rising from his throne. "And with its help, I have become the ultimate sparkling vampire!"

         With that, he spread his cloak wide, revealing a bare chest practically bursting from his open shirt, and an array of bright sparkles on his skin. Everywhere his flesh showed, they was a dash of shimmering gleam, as if he had taken a dive in a glitter factory while coated with glue. He looked like a human disco ball, reflecting the weak light of this cursed domain in all directions. And he couldn't be more proud of it.

         "Do I dazzle you?" he eased, offering a sparkling show of white teeth.

         "No!" Chi-Chi shook her head violently. "Yer not a gentleman! Yer not even a regular man! You go around all puffed up like a peacock, and don't even see yer gettin' feathers everywhere! Yer a big mess, and now we gotta clean you up!"

         The princess put her hands to her heart. "Real men don't care what other people think," she expounded. "They do their thang without worryin' about it all the time! Men like Goku, and Obotchaman!" At this, she seized her partner's hand. "They're a lot more manly than you are!"

         "Miss Chi-Chi..." Obotchaman whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

         "Really?" Yamcha was honestly surprised by this, his face drooping in a dumbfounded slump.

         "Really," Chi-Chi confirmed, smiling. Then, her head whipped back to the boy. "Obotchaman, now!" she cried, her crisp command suiting her determination.

         Obotchaman nodded, and in a swish of sewn shadow, they pulled off their cloaks, revealing their new battle duds. Chi-Chi was garbed in a vicious suit of armor, vaguely Norse in inspiration, and complete with a pair of boomerang blades serving as flair on her helmet. Obotchaman was wearing a rugged, black Kevlar suit and a set of fingerless gloves, giving him the appearance of a police special forces operative.

         They bumrushed Yamcha at breakneck speed, ready to knock him right off his throne. And even Pu'ar, most loyal of retainers, felt it best to clear out of the way of their charge.

         Yamcha had no answer to this, nor a prayer.

         Chi-Chi tore the boomerangs off her head and flung them at Yamcha's leaping figure, where they stuck into the bone throne, missing him by millimeters. {CHAAK!!} As Yamcha became airborne in an ostentatious swash of cape, Obotchaman revealed two small throwing knives wedged in his fingers, and tossed them in a staggered pair that grazed the bandit's left cheek. {VREEEK!!} Cringing as the blood dripped down his face, Yamcha landed with a short hop, fumbling with his fighting stance. He was too late; Chi-Chi had already prepared a gauntlet clad mitt for his troubles, a cast iron reminder of the wrath of a woman scorned.

         With Chi-Chi and Obotchaman moving in for the kill, Yamcha was oddly serene, the outbreak of violence somehow triggering an intellectual moment within his consciousness. His flirtation with darkness had brought him much less power than training with the Invincible Old Master. All he had really learned was how to turn his back on people with his cape swishing behind him, and how to say pointlessly rude comments in an attempt at aloofness.

         A mere three minutes later, and it was over.

*****

         "C'mon, Kuririn!" Goku called behind him, dragging the other boy by the arm. "Hurry up!"

         "Jeez, Goku, I was asleep just five minutes ago," the young monk gasped, nearly tripping over his own two feet. "What's the big deal?"

         "We gotta go see Arale-chan fight!" he told him, turning back to navigate through the jungle, hurdling shrubs and fallen tree trunks. "It might be over any minute!"

         The two had noticed Arale's absence about ten minutes after she departed for the battlefield. Finding the crumpled up note, they made a beeline to the thicket, going straight down the cliff side and into the jungle. After spending seven months on the island previously, it was easy for them to infer where the imminent fight would take place. And they knew it was a fight; both could feel the blood boiling in their veins.

         "Heh heh!" Goku snickered, giddy with excitement. "This is gonna be fun!"

         In no time, they had made it to the thicket, edging through the tall grass one at a time. They could hear the distinct sound of skin and bone smacking against each other, and the guttural snorts of violent minds. Two blurs, orange and blue, were colliding like comets, moving in haphazard, jerky arcs that nevertheless seemed to carry a certain rhythm. The heat of battle Chi radiated out from their intersect points.

         "Hey, it's ol' Jackie Chun!" Goku's face lit up in recognition. "What's that geezer doing here?"

         "Wow, look at her go!" Kuririn gaped, squinting his eyes.

         Arale and Jackie were dancing mad in fierce combat, their arms and legs ricocheting against each other. The old man was in top form, shooting out short jabs that both conserved energy and dealt out maximum damage. Most impressive, however, was Arale, who was demonstrating controlled chaos as she strove to topple the geezer. There was an iron look of determination in her that was rarely seen.

         Arale let out a kyai as she thrust a perfect Jan-ken Scissors at Jackie, who blocked it by only a narrow margin. {KAK!} He whirled around with a back fist that Arale that had to duck, the tips of his knuckles ruffling her ponytails. {FWOOF!} The girl stuck out her leg in a sweep, dropping him to the ground and leaving him vulnerable. He compensated for this by spinning into a sort of break dance, legs gyrating in a pinwheel that put Arale on guard again. {GWRIIIN!}

         Goku folded his arms, smiling with pride. (That's how ya do it!) "Arale, don't use the Jan-Ken Punch!" he shouted, cupping her hands over his mouth. "He knows that technique!"

         "Got it, Go-kun!" Arale flashed her pearly whites, while knocking away the old man's side kick.

         "Your fighting techniques are far above an amateur's," Jackie complimented, throwing a rapid series of one-two punches to keep her on her toes. "Perhaps you can handle this little tactic."

         He jumped back away from Arale's hook, and then seemed to shimmer in the darkness. {ZNNNNN!!!} Suddenly, there was two, three, four Jackie Chun's surrounding her. He had employed the Zan-Zo-Ken Shadow Double technique, a illusionist bluff familiar to those who experienced the 21st Tenka'ichi Budokai, but unknown to everyone else. Perhaps this mystery move would catch Arale off guard.

         Or perhaps not. "You split into ghosts!" Arale squealed, the pupils dancing in her eyes. "That's real cool!" She took a brief moment to evaluate the phantoms, and went straight for the left-most image with a punch to the gut. {BWAM!!} Her insight was true, and the real Jackie Chun crumpled into himself with pain, the phantom fakes vanishing shortly thereafter.

         "I gotcha, I gotcha!" Arale cheered, clapping her hands in glee.

         "Eaargh..." the old man wheezed. "Sharp eye for a kid in glasses." His expression became flat, as he caught his breath. "Though not really appropriate eyewear for a fight."

         Without fanfare, he threw a punch straight for the bridge of Arale's spectacles. A miscalculation, as his fist crunched against them as if he were pounding a concrete wall. {KOOONG!!} He howled in pain, a pulsing, red welt appearing on his knuckles. "What the hell are those things made of?!" he shrieked, stroking his injured golf grip.

         "Titanium construct and fiberglass!" she answered, tapping her frames. "Special order at the Penguin Village optometrist's office!"

         "Hmph!" Jackie snorted derisively. "Smart aleck."

         He made a short huff, and performed a wickedly fast roundhouse that caught Arale on the right cheek. {PAF!!} Moving with the impact, she recovered quickly enough to execute a retort strike, rattling the old man jaw with a clumsy hook. {BSSH!!} Jackie was able to deflect the next attack, his forearm swinging up to whack away a punch to the solar plexus. {POOCK!} He then gambled on a open palm thrust for Arale's chin, but she jived under it, going for his gut with a round of body blows.

         Goku and Kuririn cheered as the girl took the offensive, forcing Jackie back. {BAM BAM BAM!} Arale's limbs were pounding away at the old man's defenses like a coal miner on amphetamines; she would not let up for a second. What's more, she was scoring more and more hits on him, his body bruising and his kung fu jacket rumpling. He was moving on autopilot now, his blocks becoming more and more lethargic.

         Jackie tucked into a roll that gave him a little room from the pint-sized pulverizer. As Arale started her approach once again, he reared back like a stallion, gathering himself up one last time. "No more of this!" he bellowed, clasping his hands in front of him. "The moment of truth has come!"

         With a low hum, he began to gather up energy for what looked to be his final attack. The life currents of Chi interacted with natural law, and Jackie was becoming a force of nature himself. His hands were now giving off a spark shower, fizzling out as small embers on the ground. Soon, he had collected a full charge, holding electricity in his grip like a ticking time bomb. {KSHHHHH...!!}

         Goku's hair stood on end, as if electrified itself. "It's the zap-zap thing!" he shouted, lurching forward. "Watch out, Arale-chan!"

         It was too late for anyone to stop the old man's desperation move. "BANGKOK SURPRISE PRIZE!!!" he roared, and an arcing stream of galvanism jolted out of his fingertips towards Arale. {KZZAAAAA!!!}

         But instead of evading the attack, as Goku himself might have done, Arale looked within the saffron light, greeting it with a easy-going smile. Her stance didn't waver in the slightest, even as the thunder blast hit her full on. Instead of immediately frying her circuits as it might have done, the energy moved her across the ground, her shoes making skid marks in the hard earth. Her fingers was pressed together, her arms in a traditional position for controlling the flow of Chi.

         {gzzzzzz...!!} Arale was redirecting the lightning through her systems, transferring the current around from one part to another so that no part of her mechanized construct was overloaded. Goku and Kuririn watched in awe as she glowed with surging sparks, casting radiance over the trees and bushes. "Can't letcha win that easy!" She smiled through her struggles, barely containing the crackling energy within her. "That not what a martial artist does!"

         And with a quick change of posture, she fired the lighting straight back at Jackie, toasting him with 20 megawatts of high voltage current. {ZABOOOSH!!!} "AAARRRGGGHHH!!!" he wailed, his body convulsing with pain. His clothes were fraying into confetti, his hair falling out in tuffs.

         When it was over, all that was left was the blackened form of Kame-Sen'nin, twitching on the ground in the fetal position. "b-Better than a Friday night bender," he gibbered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he caught a well-deserved break from the violence, petering out into unconsciousness.

         Arale's first serious encounter with a martial arts master...and she had won.

         "Whadaya know!" Goku remarked, walking over with a stupefied Kuririn. "Jackie really was the turtle guy after all!"

         "I have restored my honor." Arale admired her handiwork, scowling in a passable impersonation of a tormented prince.

*****

         "Dad, this is my boyfriend, Obotchaman," Chi-Chi bubbled, presenting the bashful boy to the burly bruiser in front of them. "We met a little while ago when I visited his hometown."

         Gyu-Mao's mouth displayed a pristine collection of huge, white teeth. "Well, howdy, lil' man!" he greeted, seemingly unaware of his intimidating presence. "You must be quite the gentleman to win the heart of my little Chi-Chi! Yer a strong kid, right?"

         "Y-yes, sir, Lord Gyo Mao," Obotchaman responded, offering a wavering smile. "I'm the second strongest person in my village."

         "That's a good lad!" The Ox King clapped the boy hard on the shoulder, causing him to buckle under the weight. "You'll be a fine son-in-law, once we break you in!"

         "Dad's going to redo the marriage contracts," Chi-Chi filled in, turning to Obotchaman with a sunshiny face. "We're gonna transfer my engagement to Goku over to you!"

         "M-Marriage?!" Obotchaman stammered, a drop of sweat appearing on his forehead. "Aren't we going just a bit too fast, Miss Chi-Chi?"

         Chi-Chi just giggled and took his hand, leading him on into the castle ruins.

         Off to the side in a crumpled heap, was Yamcha, wrapped in bandages. Black and blue with at least four broken bones, the one-time dark lord moaned as the pain pulsated throughout his broken body. Pu'ar was doting on his master with a canister of salve, wearing a doctor's shining head mirror on his brow. Pu'ar was quite put out, his discontent making for a rough bedside manner.

         "This never would've happened if you'd listened to me." Pu'ar scolded him like a matron, spreading some salve over Yamcha sore spots without making the effort to be gentle. "I told you that Twilight book was bad for your brain."

         "I'm learning." The desert bandit winced as the antiseptic stung his open cuts.

         Pu'ar exhaled exaggeratedly. "Lord Yamcha, I'm tired of being a robber," the cat confessed, meeting his gaze. "I want to go back to shapeshifting school to earn my masters. Then, I want a respectable career entertaining derelicts at a sideshow carnival. It's always been my dream."

         Yamcha picked up the short ponytail draped over his shoulder, and sighed. "Yeah, this whole Byronic Hero thing was getting pretty stupid, anyway," he agreed. "I'm going to find a girl who doesn't care about that crap." He rose unsteadily to his feet, reaching for his crutches. "For now, shapeshifting might be a good change of pace for both of us." He grinned toothily. "Who knows? Maybe I'll learn how to transform into a werewolf."

         "We talked about this," Pu'ar warned him. "No more Twilight references."

         "Yeah, yeah," he sighed. With a snip of surgical shears, Yamcha cut off his ponytail, leaving him with the boyish cut of an everyday teenager. "Alright, let's get going!" he said, hobbling away from the Fry-Pan Mountain area. "Where's this shapeshifting school, anyway?"

         "Penguin Village," Pu'ar replied, bringing up the rear.

*****

         The morning was alive with the cawing of indigenous birds, streaking through the gentle skies in swathes of all colors. A light wind brushed through the flowers, spreading their seeds to other parts of the island. Even the wreckage of Kame House seemed not to be a sign of destruction, but the shorn skin of a new beginning.

         "Well, that's it for the food," Kuririn grumbled, dragging a large sack to the hovering Kinto'un. "You better make this last, Goku."

         "It might fill me up until lunch," Goku guessed, receiving the bag. "If I don't get hungry before then."

         "Yeah, just an appetizer..." The monk seethed, mourning the loss of his plum rice balls.

         "Arale, I was wrong about you," Kame-Sen'nin apologized, a lump of clothes resting in his arms. "You're also earned one of these." He presented Arale with her orange gi, the Kame symbol splendid in the shining sun. "Congratulations, my young martial artist."

         Arale shook her head. "Thanks-cha, but I'm not a Kame school student," she smiled, pushing the garments away. "I trained under Go-kun, so I'm gonna get a uniform with his symbol on it!"

         Kame-Sen'nin returned her sentiments, nodding sagely. He walked up to Goku, his hands clasped behind his back. "My boy, I'm so proud," he said. "You found just what you needed on your trip around the world. A wonderful girlfriend to balance your passion for the art with a passion for life. Living a full life is just as important as training hard, and I'm glad you've finally realized that."

         "Aw!" Goku scratched his head, a bashful smile on his face. "Heh heh heh!"

         "You keep up your training, too, Arale," Kame-Sen'nin said. "Balance is for everyone, and Goku's regimen seems to be doing you a lot of good."

         "Will do!" Arale agreed.

         As Goku helped Arale onto Kinto'un, Lunch stepped up. "Come over and see as again, kids!" she cried, waving up them. "I'll promise I'll hide the pepper shaker!"

         "Tchaikovsky's final symphony awaits your next visit, young masters!" Sea Turtle said, his cello leaning against his shell.

         "Right!" Resting his hand within Arale's, Goku looked towards the outside world. Both of their eyes shone with the desire for new fights and new friends. "Kinto'un, go!" they cried simultaneously, and the cloud shot out into the blue, spiraling in loop-de-loops that created a green snake of gas behind them. "Go, go, go!"

         The group watched them disappear, leaving nothing but creamy whipped cumulus behind him. Kuririn walked to the old man. "So, master, about Kame House..." he ventured, his voice breaking the silence left in Goku and Arale's wake.

         "Don't worry, Kuririn." Kame-Sen'nin sniffed up a bit of the morning dew, in surprisingly good cheer. "I've already made arrangements for its replacement."

*****

         Senbei goggled at the curious envelope, bearing a return address to the Western Sea, and a stamp featuring Kasumi from Dead or Alive. His eye wandering surreptitiously to the scantily clad ninja, he soon tore open the letter, revealing a single piece of folded up paper. The crisp typeface suggested a legal matter, a very unfriendly Arial 12; Upon reading the message in its entirety, he found it even less friendly.

-

         YOU OWE ME: 1 KAME HOUSE

         PRICE: 500,000 ZENI

         (signed) THE INVINCIBLE OLD MASTER

-

         "ARALEEEEE!!!" Senbei screamed to the heavens, rousing a family of owls from their nesting grounds.

                   End



Author's Notes: Well, another fanfic makes its way out of my head and into the world. These past few years, we've seen a revivial of media in the U.S. based on the original Dragon Ball, so this is something I wanted to do to ride the wave. Goku and his Penguin Village counterpart Arale offer no end of opportunities to explore the Akira Toriyama mythos and all his old concepts, such as the Jan-ken technique and Jackie Chun. I hope I did justice to the true Kame-Sen'nin; he's a lot more than just some old pervert.

Until next fanfic, Ja ne! ^_^